A Confession

I wonder if anyone will figure out who this is about…

Is it the colour of your eyes?

a sea of grey, murky like smoke and mirrors,

but au contraire, my dear,

that’s a compliment,

I’d love to unravel your mysteries,

I’m not afraid of them.

You’ve made butterflies emerge from their cocoons,

ready to fly.

confined in a space so small,

they have no choice but to make a ruckus,

Is it your smile?

I can’t remember if your lips stretch over your teeth,

if you smirk more than you grin

I still smile the same every time,

no, sorry, my mistake,

I don’t smile, I grin.

my eyes disappear, my teeth on full display.

“my mind is living on cloud nine and that nine is never on vacation. start up that Maserati and vroom vroom I’m racing”

my dear, you’re that Maserati.

I wonder if you notice anything:

my awkwardness?

my silence?

my attempts at words?

I’ve realized,

you’re a little oblivious

or a lot

but you know what?

that’s okay.



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